


Forsaking All Others

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They aren't really wedding rings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forsaking All Others

Dean Winchester's made a lot of empty promises in his life. He's broken most of them, leaving a trail of damaged hearts and empty beds stretching from one coast to the other in the process, and he's seldom felt bad about it. Most of the time, his leaving isn't a surprise - he's usually pretty clear about what he's looking for, and the people he takes to bed know him for what he is. He's a good time, a wild night to look back on when they're older, not the long-haul guy who'll stick around and build a family with them. And that's the way he likes it. He's never been one to tie himself down with too many strings, but that doesn't mean he's completely averse to them. There's one string he welcomes and one promise he knows he'll never break.  
  
He thinks about that promise while he watches Sam getting his tattoo. His own freshly-inked chest is stinging, the pain of the needles lingering despite the artist having finished with him almost an hour ago. It's not a bad pain, though, just constant, something he can feel with every breath he takes, and he wonders how long that'll last. How long before the tattoo ceases to be something  _other_  and becomes part of who he is, just like Sam himself?  
  
Sam's been a part of him for as long as Dean can remember. He used to tease Sam by telling him how much better things were before he was born, but the truth is, Dean has only the fuzziest memories of life before Sam. Sometimes it seems like his own life didn't really begin until Sam was born, and he knows it pretty much stopped when he left. That's why he didn't hesitate when the crossroads demon offered him the deal - without Sam, he was basically a dead man waiting for the final blow to fall, so what did it matter? At least this way he got to spend one last year with Sam. One year. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do. They just had to cram a lifetime into it, fill it with things to keep Sam sane when the year was up and his deal came due.  
  
Things like the tattoos they were getting tonight. Sam had talked about getting Bobby's protection charm tattooed on him for a while, but they'd had to be sure that it would work before they did anything. Bobby researched it for them and said it should be okay, but before they could do anything, Sam had gone missing. Then there were the sins and Lisa, and after he nearly lost Sam  _again_  over the stupid rabbit's foot, Dean had decided they needed to take action. He wasn't about to get cheated out of his full year just because Sam had a tendency to attract supernatural trouble. And if he was bound and determined to hang around with that demon, Dean wanted to make sure they both had as much protection as possible.  
  
"There you go, sweetie. All done." The tattoo artist's voice pulled him out of his thoughts just in time to see Sam jump up from the table like he'd been stung and hurry across the room to what he could only assume was the bathroom. The artist laughed when she caught sight of his concerned frown. "He's fine. He just needs a minute or two alone."  
  
Dean actually started to ask why Sam would need time alone when it hit him. He managed to clamp his mouth shut before the words could fly out,but only for a second before he muttered, "I'm just gonna -" and gestured towards the back of the store. He could hear the artist laugh as he hurried after Sam, and he knew he was being about as subtle as a pink elephant, but he really didn't care.  
  
A series of light raps on the door got Sam to open up for him, and Dean slid inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He stared at Sam's chest, not yet covered with gauze like his own, the deep black gleam of the fresh ink standing out vividly against his skin, tempting him to reach out and touch. His eyes slid lower and he could see why Sam had been in such a hurry to get away. "Got a little ink kink, there, Sammy?" he teased, his voice going rough and gravelly at the sight of the bulge in his brother's jeans.  
  
"Shut up," Sam muttered, but there was no real heat to the words, and he didn't try to push Dean away when he hooked his fingers in his belt loops and pulled him towards him. Up close, Dean could smell the ink that now stained his brother's skin, an alien addition to Sam's familiar scent.  
  
He wanted to bend down and lick it, taste it while it was still fresh, but Sam hissed when he reached up to stroke it, so Dean had to put that on his To Do list. For now he settled on spinning Sam around to face the mirror and pressing up against his back, grinding against him to let him know that he wasn't the only one who'd been turned on by the sting of the needle. "So fucking sexy, Sammy. Can't wait until it's healed - gonna lick it and jerk off, come all over it, you know that?"  
  
Sam shuddered and groaned, the sound bouncing off the tiles before he remembered where they were. "Dean, stop. We can't -" But his protest was cut off with a whimper, brought on by the slow drag of Dean's tongue up the side of his neck.  
  
"Course we can." He slid his hand down to squeeze Sam's dick, smiling at the moan that Sam just couldn't hold back. "You know she's expecting us to, right?"  
  
"What?!"  
  
Dean chuckled and bit his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, Sammy, two guys walk into the shop and get matching tattoos? There's no way she doesn't figure out that we're together." He smirked. "She probably thinks they're some kind of wedding rings or something."  
  
"Aren't they?" Sam gasped, hips shoving forward into Dean's hand.   
  
Shit. He hadn't meant him to take that seriously. A soft whine from Sam made him realize that his rhythm had faltered, and Dean tightened his grip and rubbed over him again. "Why would you say that?" he asked softly.  
  
"God, Dean," he moaned, protest and pleasure wrapped up together as he tried to ignore the question.   
  
But Dean wasn't giving up that easily - he pressed against him again, rocking his hips against Sam's ass and breathed, "C'mon, Sammy, tell me."  
  
Sam leaned forward, bracing himself against the counter with his hands while Dean squeezed the base of his dick and slipped further down to cup his balls, savoring the warm weight of them through the dampening denim. "It's - they're right there," he forced out. "Something everyone can see and it - oh, God, yeah - it marks me as yours."  
  
He hadn't thought of them that way, but Sam had a point. They were marked now, both of them permanently imprinted with a protective charm right over the heart they shared. And it was right, real and true in a way that rings, which came off or got lost, could never be. But he wasn't about to tell Sam that, not if he wanted to able to mock him for being girly enough to say that tattoos were anything like wedding rings. So he just said, "Yeah," and rocked against him again, sucking a hickey into life at the base of his neck.  
  
Sam moaned and reached behind him, one long hand closing on his hip, urging him on. Dean was just about to reach for his zipper when he caught sight of the tattoo in the mirror. Sam's tattoo.  _It marks me as yours_. Wasn't that what it was really about, making sure Sam knew whose he was, giving him something to remind him that would outlast Dean himself? This was forever, just like them, a part of them like they were of each other, and if this was as close as he ever got to a wedding, Dean knew it was more than enough.  
  
"Dean?" Sam asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror, confusion written all over his face. This was his cue, the point where he needed to remember why he'd come in here and get with the program. But instead Dean found himself pulling his hand back and turning Sam around for a kiss.  
  
They were both breathing hard when they had to stop for air, and Dean grinned at him. "C'mon, let's go home." When Sam frowned and opened his mouth to ask why, he added, "I wanna fuck you, and I left the lube in the car."  
  
Sam laughed and shook his head, but followed Dean out of the bathroom anyway. Dean paid the tattoo artist and did his best to ignore her knowing smile, although on the way out of the shop, he did allow himself to brush a hand over Sam's ass, copping a quick feel to hold him over until they made it back to the motel. He told himself that he was doing the right thing, and despite his aching dick, he knew he was right. If he was only going to get this once, then he wanted to make it as perfect as he could.  
  
Wedding nights just shouldn't start in a tattoo parlor's bathroom.


End file.
